Lake Tahoe is better than the ocean.

Blasphemy, you may say, that a little lake could be more powerful, more impressive, more serene than the all-mighty ocean. 

Well, it's true. Besides the most obvious reason, no sharks in the lake, Lake Tahoe embodies a depth, a richness, a stillness, a calm that is unparalleled. 

In full disclosure, I grew up a lake girl. We had a boat and we skied at least three days a week from Memorial Day to Labor Day and beyond if the weather cooperated. The lake was the place my brother and I didn't fight; it was picnic lunches and jugs of ice water; and a communal sense of joy and freedom our family found in few other endeavors. 

Our family vacationed on Table Rock Lake, where we would rent a condo with a boat slip for a week or more each summer. While my dad and brother put the boat in, my mom and I would drive in to the Kimberling City WalMart for groceries. My baby sister would tag along and us girls always had a great time picking out the snacks for the week, with rare treats like gushers and fruit by the foot (all guaranteed to be gone by day one).

We would rise at 7am to ski on the glass-like water. I was rumored to be so graceful I could ski without getting my hair wet, a feat I haven't pulled off in a while. Table Rock Lake is gorgeous. It's clear, it's clean, it's pristine in my mind. 

Oklahoma lakes have nothing on Missouri lakes in terms of color but they hold a magic for me nonetheless. My husband's second family owns the most glorious cabin on a point on Lake Eufaula and it has become my favorite place to escape, a place where I am loved and known and my husband can actually relax. We got married there and introducing our son to this spot last summer was so powerful. 

My husband and I, along with our sister and brother-in-law, traveled to Lake Tahoe for a baby moon getaway. My sister-in-law and I are due two days apart and the men put their heads together to plan a surprise trip. Not expecting the insane flooding and cool temps at home, we thought a nice, cool getaway would be ideal for our swollen ankles and growing (read: sweaty) bellies. 

Imagine my astonishment when I caught a glimpse of this view:

 

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It was like coming home. 

The water is crystal-clear, ocean-like in this sense. It has various shades of magnificent blue-green hues depending on depth and no color variation disappointments. But the darkest blue marking the deepest waters holds a truth I cannot quite capture. It speaks to me of a depth and beauty in life I believe we all long to capture, to identify, to call our own.

 

That's really a lake, not the ocean. Wild, I know. Oh and those are mountains in the background. I can't even.

That's really a lake, not the ocean. Wild, I know. Oh and those are mountains in the background. I can't even.

This place is equal parts calm and invigorating to me. The mountains that frame the water scream of God's ability to handle my questions, to carry my burdens, to protect my heart and to drive my dreams. The crisp air invites new life into my weary body, tired mind and uncertain passions. 

I am on the cusp of a new season as a mom of two under two. I am not sure what this means yet, how it will go, what it means for my work and my relationships. This place assures me I don't have to know because He does. 

The God who created the grandeur of this place is the same architect of my life. 

Upon this realization, I actively can feel a peace settle over my spirit and a contentment in my soul. 

I urge you to find such a place as this and rest, reflect, breathe for a few moments, a few days if you can afford it. Home is where the heart is, yes; but a brief retreat is where we must go to remember home is worth the heartache, the mess, the joy.